A/N: I don't own Inuyasha. This is a very alt. pairing. Thank you to all of those who review my drabbles and one-shots. It really does make me feel better. Now please enjoy this weird-ass story.

Paradox

"How wonderful that we have met with a paradox. Now we have some hope of making progress."

-Niels Bohr

"Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?"

-Abraham Lincoln

She had tried, tried so often to get back, to force her way through time and distance and space and the fabric of the Gods themselves to just get back to them. Each and every day she failed. Every week, she failed. Every month, she failed. That decade, she failed. On her twenty-fifth birthday, Kagome stumbled to the well-house, slightly tipsy, extremely morose, and ready to try one last time.

This time, the well accepted her.

And Onigumo was a bad man, but not an evil man, not quite yet, at least, and fate sometimes has a way of working itself out. He lounged next to an old decrepit well, a rusted samurai sword in hand, a stolen sack of gold stuffed into his shirt, and a serene expression on his face. A distinct cry of pain from the well roused his attention. He glanced around, searching the clearing for the voice who had interrupted him. Another cry came from the well, and hesitantly, Onigumo peered over the side.

A young woman lay sprawled at the bottom. She wore strange clothes--tight hakama and a revealing haori, and she rubbed her ankle tenderly. She glanced up, and her expression of pain shifted to one of horror.

"You have got to be shitting me," she cursed.

Onigumo was a bad man, but he was a polite man--at least when it came to pretty women--so he helped her out of the well graciously. She collapsed on the grass next to him, eyeing him suspiciously, and he lay back down as he was before.

"You don't look youkai," Onigumo finally said, subtly commenting on her strange appearance.

"Neither do you," she replied dryly.

"So you must be Onigumo then," she stated sometime later as dusk fell.

He glanced at her, relaxed, unsuspicious. "My reputation precedes me."

She rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

"My name is Kagome," she informed him two days later, after he pulled her out of the well for about the twentieth time.

"It should be 'crazy'," he replied succinctly. "Jumping down wells is not the smartest thing to do."

Kagome shrugged. "What else am I supposed to do?"

Onigumo gave her a flat look, his long, inky-black hair swirling slightly in the breeze. "You're a woman. Do woman things."

Kagome scowled at him and stomped off.

"I really don't understand," she explained to him a week later, dejectedly, "It has never shut me out before, at least not like this."

Onigumo sighed and just gave her a put-upon expression.

"I'm not crazy," she told him. "It just took me too far. I should be, like, sixty years in the future."

The bandit stared at the sky, hands behind his head and grass gently tickling the few areas where his bare skin was within reach.

"I shouldn't have been drinking, that was probably it," she continued.

"Yes," he replied, "I often find myself in random areas after drinking as well."

"I didn't drink that much."

"Okay."

She would sleep in a ramshackle hut in the woods. It wasn't near the village, nor was it near Goshinboku. Onigumo slept a few paces from her, against the opposite wall. Sometimes he would leave, and return covered in blood and carrying food, or gold, or weapons.

Kagome never went near any other people. She was afraid she had already fucked up the future (the past? The...fuck?) enough already.

"Do you know a Kikyo?" she asked him over dinner one night.

"No," he mumbled, mouth full.

"Do you happen to do anything dangerous?"

"Not particularly."

"Are you sure your name is Onigumo?"

He glanced at her flatly through his dark eyes (not red, not yet, at least).

"I am positive my name is Onigumo."

"Hm."

"You are not as bad as I thought you would be," she told him, dangling her feet over the edge of the well. She didn't plan on jumping, but it was still nice and childish to let her feet dangle anyway.

Onigumo relaxed, his head leaning against her lower back."You are worse than I thought you would be," he quipped.

"You didn't expect anything," she huffed, "you don't even know who I am."

"You're Kagome."

"Move your head, I'm getting up."

"I am quite comfortable, thank you."

Kagome twisted, glaring at the crown of his skull. "It's your fault if you bump your head then."

Onigumo sighed but lifted his head. Kagome hummed and shifted from the well, settling down beside him on the ground. They both stared out into the expansive forest.

"Well, you don't seem evil," she stated after some time.

"No, not quite. You seem to assume a lot about me," he replied, glancing down at her more petite form.

"For good reason," she assured him.

Onigumo lifted a fine eyebrow at her, questioning.

"Well, I can't tell you, but from what I was told, you were a horrible person." Kagome gazed thoughtfully at the reddening horizon. Streaks slashed across the sky, and in those lacerations, she saw tentacles and blood and guilt.

He did not have a spider scar on his back, Kagome noticed, accidentally. She had innocently padded down to the stream to get some water, emerging only to find Onigumo bathing. She shrieked and flattened herself behind a tree as he laughed.

She cried, because she missed home, and missed Inuyasha, and her Mama, and Miroku, and Sango, and life. He sat, silently, across the room, eyes glittering strangely in the darkness, watching her. Rocking back and forth, she stuffed her fists into her eyes, anything to stop the formidable tears that wouldn't leave her.

It seemed, to her, she would always be a toy to Time.

"Naraku," she mumbled in her sleep.

Onigumo studied her facial features, then he leaned forward to caress her flushed cheek. A spider crawled along the dirt floor and before it could creep under the blanket with her Onigumo squashed it with an unforgiving thumb.

Abruptly he stood, leaving the room in a hurry, sword tucked firmly at his waist.

Onigumo entered the hut to find it empty. The blankets were folded neatly in the center, food stuffed in the corner, a pot filled with water next to the door. He turned and began to stride to the well. When he reached it, he heard a muffled groan. Looking over the side, he found Kagome sitting cross legged at the bottom, fists clenched tightly in her lap.

"It's going to rain," he called down to her.

"I don't care," she replied, voice barely controlled.

"I brought food."

"I'm not hungry."

"Suit yourself."

Onigumo settled down next to the well, then opened the bag he carried with him. He spread out some dried meats and fruit, and began to snack. A few minutes later he heard the shuffle of dirt and climbing, and slowly she heaved herself over the edge of the well. Cheeks flushed, she sat down next to him, pouting.

"You could have helped me out," she said pointedly.

"I could have," he said, not looking in her direction.

"You didn't."

"You didn't ask."

"I see."

"You kill people, don't you?"

"I have killed people, if that is what you mean," he replied, picking at grass and decimating it. She sat next to him, and he realized that they spent an awful lot of time lounging by the well. He blamed her for that. She refused to stray from the well, the hut, or the stream.

"I still can't see how you become what you do," she murmured, and he glanced at her sharply.

"And what do I become, Kagome?"

Kagome flushed. "Nothing. You become nothing."

Fifty or so years from where Kagome was, she would be fifteen and gallivanting around Japan with a hanyou, a monk, a tajiya, and a kitsune. She would be young and limber and full of hope and love and life.

Fifty or so years before that there was a jaded Kagome, a twenty-five year old woman who had lived everything, and lost it all as well. She kept company with her worst enemy, the one she had killed ten years ago. He treated her well. He was human. He was not evil.

And he kind of made her laugh, too.

"Next time you steal something, can you get me a bow and some arrows?"

Onigumo stared at her curiously as Kagome began to crawl over the edge of the well again. He grumbled, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to the ground before she could leap.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, but didn't put up much of a struggle, instead leaning her shoulder against his in an amiable manner.

"You are quite persistent," he told her. "And why would you need a bow?"

"And some arrows."

"And some arrows," he reiterated grumpily.

"Because, I should have some kind of protection when you're not here."

Onigumo crossed his arms. "It's dangerous to wield a weapon you know nothing about."

Kagome stiffened and turned to glare at him. He stared back at her challengingly.

"I'll have you know," she ground out, "that I am pretty damn good at archery."

"I am sure you are," he placated.

"Don't talk to me like that," Kagome snapped, pulling away from him. "I am not some stupid female you can talk down to." The breeze picked up and her hair tangled itself into her face, leaving her sputtering and even more frustrated. Onigumo chuckled, then grabbed her once again, pulling her nearly in his lap.

"I will get you your bow, just calm down."

"Hmph." But she let him hold her.

When the lesser youkai burst from the bushes, Onigumo stood to block Kagome. She rolled her eyes, then stood to block him.

"Woman," he burst, "what do you think--"

"Oh shush," she said, taking aim with her newly acquired bow. The youkai, a conglomeration of some kind of snake and rat, sprinted at them. With a twang, Kagome released her arrow, and it shot away with a blinding burst of holy energy. The youkai dissolved and the arrow embedded itself in the spongy soil across the clearing.

"And that," said Kagome as she turned to look at him, smirking, "is how you kill a youkai."

"And that," she thought, in the back of her mind, "is how I will kill you."

Seventy years in the future, a hanyou and his miko wife would live happily together, as the miko's reincarnation disappeared down the well. Kagome's wish had been pure, yet she regretted it. Why couldn't she get a reincarnated Inuyasha? How was it fair that she had to sacrifice so much, and even as an adult she did not control her own life?

And why did she have to meet the man she had killed? Why did she have to find out that he wasn't truly evil, and that he had a sense of humor, and that he had decent manners, and that when the sun rose his face looked like it could be reborn again and again.

In those moments, when she saw the man, and not the monster he would become, she thought she could have loved him.

He grabbed her and pulled her in close to her, right before the well, right in the spot where Inuyasha had grabbed her and stole the shards and pushed her in. But this was not Inuyasha, this was Naraku. No, Onigumo.

This was Onigumo and he was wrapping his arms around her desperately, and Kagome did not know why, but he felt warm and comforting, and he smelled like moss and streams and decaying leaves. So she embraced him back, circling her arms around his neck and burying her face into his chest. His breath puffed against the top of her head, and Kagome felt all the tension coil, then release from her like a spring flood, the melting of frigid ice and the warmth of a mild summer day.

The rest of that night she did not attempt to jump in the well.

"I think," she finally said, and fear tinged her voice, "that I might be stuck here."

Onigumo kept his eyes closed, sucking in the watery warmth the sun provided. He could feel the small puff of air that meant she had settled down next to him.

"Why not stay then?" he asked her mildly.

"I can't. It would mess up the timeline."

He could feel her breath against his cheek. She must have been facing him.

"I think you should explain the timeline," he said lightly, though there was hard edge to his voice. Kagome didn't reply, instead grabbing his hand and threading her fingers through his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. As to what she was apologizing about, he did not know.

It was raining when she left to jump into the well. Onigumo frowned, but followed her out.

"You don't have to come," she told him as the rain soaked through their clothing.

"You may be able to kill youkai," he informed her, "but you are worthless against men. And they can do far worse than youkai."

Kagome stared at him thoughtfully, her hands limp by her sides. "I want you to remember that," she said, softly, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Onigumo gazed at her bemused, then shook himself. "I said it, of course I will remember it."

Kagome smiled, knowingly, secretively, and turned around to continue to the well. He followed close behind, slipping slightly in the mud. When they reached the well, both peered in apprehensively.

"It's probably flooded," Onigumo said flatly.

"Maybe," Kagome replied, eyes focusing on the dark maw the well presented. Quickly she sat on the edge, fingers gripping the splintered wood with white knuckles. She turned to glance at Onigumo, and his scowl deepened. His dark hair stuck to his neck and face, soaked. Kagome imagined she looked much the same way.

Before she lost courage, Kagome reached out, grabbed his shirt, and pulled Onigumo down, placing a feather-light kiss on his cheek. Releasing him, Onigumo backed up with wide eyes, rubbing the cheek with his hand.

"And what was that for?" he asked, though not unhappily.

"Oh I don't know," she shrugged, "good luck I guess."

Then she jumped.

Onigumo waited to hear the splash or thump indicating Kagome's fall. His brow furrowed as seconds passed and the only sound he could hear was the steady thrum of rain. Peering into the well, Onigumo saw it was empty.

"Oh," Kagome whispered, staring at the aged ceiling above her. "Oh."

And Onigumo was a bad man, but not an evil man, not yet, at least.

When he changed, merging into another creature, a monster, he lost most of his memories, pushing them to the back of his head, the back of his heart. It wasn't until she stood strait, afraid, courageous, desperate... with her arrow notched and pointed at him, that he realized who she was, and what had happened all those years ago.

"And that," he heard her say in the back of his mind, as the purified arrow shot blindingly at him, "is how you kill a youkai."

Over five hundred years in the future a woman shopped in a small market. She handled a pear, sniffing it slightly, before placing it in her basket. She continued browsing, not noticing the other inhabitant in her aisle.

He bumped into her, and Kagome whirled to apologize, only to come face to face with him.

"Oh," she whispered, staring at his dark eyes and long, wild hair.

"It is not safe to wonder by yourself," the man said. "You may be able to kill youkai, but you are worthless against men."

"Oh," Kagome repeated.

"I think you established that," Onigumo said.

"You remember?" she breathed, eyes wide, cheeks pale.

"Just enough."

"I..."

"Coffee?" he asked politely.

Kagome paused, blinking. "Yes, please."

In the future, Onigumo would always introduced his wife with a flourish. "And this is the woman who killed me in my past life."

And people would laugh, and Kagome would scowl, and Onigumo would take her hand and link fingers and whisper 'thank you' lovingly into her ear.